


Learning the Hard Way

by Lunarch, MoonchildUsagi



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, F/M, Gen, Next-Gen, Scone, only a flesh wound
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-04-13
Updated: 2012-03-04
Packaged: 2017-10-17 23:04:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/182276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarch/pseuds/Lunarch, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonchildUsagi/pseuds/MoonchildUsagi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>27 years later and all is well on some sort of Earth... But are our heroes' children really free of the game's machinations? (Of course not. That would be as ridiculous as the pumpkin sitting behind you.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Doomed to Repeat It

**Author's Note:**

> Characters (that aren't Hussie's) and situations coauthored by ChaosBladeKazu. Individual chapters betaed by him and Vethica (who sadly lacks an AO3 account). ♡ and ♢ to you guys.

###    
>Act 1   


 

            The night was not dark and stormy but filled with the lingering heat and humidity of an August day, and the thick air was quite tranquil until it was shattered by a cry of pain.

            Vriska Serket had once looked forward to such screams, relieved that they were coming from unfortunate Flarpers and not from herself. But the new instincts she'd developed in the twenty-seven years since arriving on the restored Earth dreaded that very sound most of all. Her cerulean blood turned to ice – because she shared it with the owner of that voice.

            She wasted no time in rushing to her son's room. While she normally tried not to meddle where she wasn't wanted as part of her effort to not fuck up at being a mother, she threw the door open without a second thought.

            She gasped when she saw the splash of blue. Her son stood in the center of the room, with blood soaking into his shirt, spattered on his glasses, and dripping onto the floor below him. He gave her a weak smile, seemingly ignoring the fact that his left arm was missing. There was no other sign of the attacker.

            "Oh my God, Maraan! Your arm!"

            Maraan might have tried to explain, but Vriska was already hurrying him down the stairs and out the door to the car. Though her breath was short from panic, she continued repeating aloud that he would be okay as she speeded along.

            "Mom, I know I'll be OK! Calm down! Please." Maraan understood why his mother was upset, of course, but this was more than he had bargained for. He knew he had a long history of making his parents worry about him. Every school he'd been kicked out of, every bully he'd made pay for their crimes added to the strain on his family and he hated it. But in all his fifteen years, he had never seen Vriska frightened like this.

            After a few minutes the car pulled up in front of a completely darkened house. Vriska held a protective arm around Maraan's thin frame as she pounded on the door with the other.

            Two minutes later the man of the house answered the door. "Excuse me, but are you aware of what time it is?"

            Vriska didn't acknowledge the question, but simply pushed Maraan towards Equius. "How fast can you make a robot arm for him?"

            Equius's eyes widened as they fell on Maraan. After the moment of shock passed, he answered. "I have a variety of spare parts, it shouldn't take long at all. Do come in."

            They entered to find two other trolls standing in the hall. One of them, a teenaged boy with long hair and arrow-tipped horns that curved back over his head, asked the obvious question. "Maraan, what happened?"

            "Oh, hey Peg," the bleeding boy answered nonchalantly.

            Before he could follow up on the greeting, Equius interrupted him. "Pegasus, come help me fix up one of the spare arms for your friend." He then added quickly, "If it pleases you, of course."

            "For the last time, father, you are _allowed_ to just give me an order."

            "But how could I presume to disrespect your noble blood that way?"

            The woman who had been silent until then put a hand on Equius's arm, despite the fact that his skin was beginning to break into a sweat. "Dear, can you have this conversation _after_ you've seen to Maraan's arm?"

            "Yeah," chimed in Vriska, "my son's only bleeding to death while you idiots argue."

            "Oh! Of course, Aradia. Maraan, this way." Equius led Maraan away to his workroom, followed by Pegasus, who whispered "Thanks for snapping him out of it, mother" as he passed by. Vriska and Aradia were left alone in the hall.

            "...Does that happen a lot?"

            "Almost every day," sighed Aradia. "Of all the families to get a combination of blood colors..."

 

 

            Patience was still not Vriska's strong suit, so she waited tensely in Equius and Aradia's living room, thinking of how she could make whoever had done this pay. If Doc Scratch was up to his old tricks, the hardest part would be not killing him...

            Equius returned from the workroom, still wiping blood and oil from his hands. "Pegasus and I were successful in attaching the arm. If you come back in a few days, I can have a better model ready. However..." He paused nervously. "I couldn't help but overhear Maraan telling Pegasus that the damage was... self-inflicted."

            Vriska hadn't thought that the night could get any more shocking, but everything stopped at that last word.

            "What? You're saying he... cut off his own arm? Why would he do that?"

            "Because I knew you'd take me here and get me a better one." Maraan stood in the doorway, grinning and flexing his new metal hand experimentally.

            Before his mother could regain the power of speech, Maraan changed the subject. "Anyweb, where's Araña?"

            Vriska suddenly remembered her daughter and swore under her breath. "She's home alone... We'll discuss this in the car."

 

 

            As soon as they were on the road, Vriska started in on him. "How could you do this to yourself? You think this is some sort of game?"

            "Oh, don't act so high and mighty, Mom. Eridan told me all about how Equius made you a robot arm when you were even younger than me. It sounded awesome, so I figured you'd have him do the same for me. Why, I bet you cut off your own arm for the same reason!"

            The car pulled over and parked at the side of the road.

            "Mom, what are you doing? We need to--" He was interrupted by the sting of a slap across the face.

            Vriska spoke quietly and deliberately. "You want to know how I lost my arm? It started when I stole this magic cue ball. I was told it was dangerous, but no, _I_ was too awesome to be threatened by a stupid ball." She paused for effect. "The thing exploded in my face. Took my arm and my vision eightfold with it. And you know why it did that? My friend was punishing me for some shit I'd done earlier. Honestly, I deserved it! But God, I hated her for a while. Getting my arm and my eyes back was one of the best parts of SGRUB for me."

            After that, both were silent all the way home. The outside light was on and a wide-horned troll girl waited on the steps, looking like a forlorn ghost with her long hair falling over one eye.

            She perked up when she saw the car pull into the driveway, but her smile turned to a look of confusion once she saw the light glint off the metal surface of her big brother's arm. She hesitantly asked "Uh, Maraan...? What happened...?"

            "It's nothing to worry about, sis," he answered. "I'm really sorry I woke you up."

            Vriska sat on the steps next to her daughter. She gently brushed the girl's hair aside to reveal a flowerlike pattern of seven pupils, took a deep breath, and prepared herself for an old familiar lie.

            "Araña, honey, your brother had an... _accident_."


	2. School Daze

 

            Maraan was almost late for the first day of his sophomore year because of the spiders. While his animal communion kept his arachnid army from killing each other or from redispersing through the house, feeding them all was a time-consuming endeavor.

            Araña, on the other hand, was ready for her freshman year early. She still self-consciously kept her vision eightfold hidden behind a curtain of hair. She got enough strange looks just for being a troll, so she didn't want to be further singled out by her weird eye.

            It was the first time in years that brother and sister attended the same school, and Maraan was determined to make the most of it.

            "Araña, if anyone gives you a hard time, just let me know," he said as he walked her to her first class. "If I'm not around, make me write a note to myself and I'll come running."

            Araña thought of the boy who'd stolen her lunch in kindergarten and been forced to eat it directly from her brother's mouth in front of the whole cafeteria, the one who'd broken her glasses in third grade and been threatened until he jumped off the side of a hill and broke both his legs, the girl in sixth grade who announced that she wouldn't sit next to an alien and found a black widow in her locker the next day...

            "Um... I think I'll be all right."

            The students at Skaia High were used to the presence of trolls by now and Araña was very good at keeping to herself, so she was surprised to feel a tap on her shoulder as she sat waiting for first period to begin.

            Araña turned to see a brunette ponytailed human wearing a bizarre pair of sunglasses. They seemed to have no frames, and the lenses were cut in the shape of triangles that poked away from the girl's face.

            "Hey there. My parents just moved back to this town, and I'm pretty sure they know yours. What's your name, troll girl?"

            "Um, Araña... Araña Nitram."

            "Huh... Doesn't ring a bell. I'll have to ask later." The girl grinned and pointed a thumb in her own direction. "The name's Jazz Strider, but you can call me Sis. Nice to meet you, Araña."

 

            By lunchtime, Araña was overjoyed at having a new friend to sit with. Jazz, for her part, found the shy troll adorable and resolved to live up to her self-assigned nickname and act like a big sister.

            Jazz found herself being led to a table that was empty but for a handful of trolls. She noticed that each of them (including the one other human, oddly enough) wore a colored glyph on the front of their clothing. Most of them she recognized as planetary symbols, except for the orange-brown horseshoe on Araña. An omega, perhaps?

            Jazz glanced down at her own shirt and saw only the letters "CROE" in bright orange. Yeah, who was she kidding, looking for deep hidden meanings in people's fashion decisions?

            Araña went right to the one with the robot arm and the blue Pluto symbol. "Maraan, this is my new friend Sis– I mean, Jazz Strider! Sis, this is my brother, Maraan Serket!"

            Jazz looked from one to the other. Other than their glasses and, well, having gray skin, black hair, and candy-corn horns, the two were nothing alike. "Really? You're sure you guys are related?"

            Maraan rolled his eyes. "We get that a lot. And before you ask, the last names go by blood color. I got Mom's, she got Dad's."

 

            Jazz and Araña continued chatting until Araña suddenly trailed off. Jazz followed her anxious gaze to an approaching figure. It was a thickset human student wearing clownish face paint.

            Maraan was engaged in a conversation with Pegasus, but immediately snapped to attention when his sister's timorous voice said "Uh, Maraan... I think it's one of them again..."

            "Who's them?" asked Jazz.

            Maraan dashed off an explanation without even looking at her. "A friend of my dad's went off his meds once and a bunch of kids are trying to be like him." He barely paused for breath before adding, "Araña, you should get out of here. I can take care of this on my own." After her initial impression of her friend's brother, Jazz was surprised to see his expression softened by worry.

            Araña hesitantly excused herself. Jazz told her to go on ahead and settled in to watch.

            The mysterious "one of them" announced his arrival with a gruff "Hey, kid, the Miracles still don't like you."

            Without turning around, Maraan coolly asked, "Why? Because I've met your idol and he doesn't give a shit about you?"

            "You filthy little liar!" A meaty hand descended on Maraan's shoulder, but with the speed of a reflex reversed course as its owner was bowled over by the sweep of a metal arm. Jazz gave a long, low whistle.

            The would-be aggressor sprawled on the empty table behind him only to find a grey-skinned hand at his throat and a disconcerting pair of yellow eyes leering at him.

            "I don't spin lies. Your little gang just can't handle the fact that your precious messiah is an Indian hippy now. You cowards just have to take it out on the messenger, don't you?"

            Seeing the fear apparent on the painted face, Maraan knew his job was done. He pushed the boy aside in disgust. "Just go cry in your Faygo. I don't have time for you."           




 

            After the final bell rang, Jazz caught up with Maraan on the patio in front of the school.

            "What do you want, Strider?"

            "Fight me." A simple answer, delivered cockily. "I saw what you did to that clown kid earlier and thought you could give me a good challenge."

            "Fine." Most of the students stayed well out of Maraan's way, but frankly he enjoyed it when anyone was stupid enough to pick a fight with him. Twice in one day was an unprecedented stroke of luck.

            The girl summoned an extremely long and thin sword from her strife deck.

            "Is that a nodachi?"

            She smirked, clearly impressed. "You know your swords." He also knew that holding a Japanese sword with one hand as she did made it much harder to control, but said nothing. "Ready?" she asked. He nodded.

            To everyone else she was only a blur. Her blade swung up under his outstretched arm, neatly severing metal from flesh. Then in his moment of shock she gathered her free hand into a fist and used the forward momentum left over from the swing to connect it with his face, sending him tumbling into the wall behind him. It was all over in five seconds.

            She posed with the sword held over her shoulder, letting the bystanders look in awe at her victory. "And here I thought I'd finally found a worthy opponent. Guess I was wrong." She turned to Araña, who was watching wide-eyed from the crowd. "Don't worry, I just took off his prosthetic. It'll go right back on. See you tomorrow, 'k?" Then she flash-stepped away before further questions could be asked.

            Araña ran to where her brother lay against the wall and asked "Are you all right?!"

            "Araña..." Maraan murmured as he sat up dazedly and lifted a hand to his bleeding nose, "I think I'm in love."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I disappeared for so long! At least I had time to plan out where Act 2 is going (and constantly revise plans for Act 3 as things get Jossed)? It's been a long long time since the finals fiasco blew over, but it took forever to get the momentum back. Anyway, I'll try to actually write and post chapters on a somewhat regular basis now.
> 
> (Also, sorry the formatting got screwed up but it came down to a choice between working paragraphs, working CSS, or going insane from coding frustration. I've chosen the CSS for now.)

If Jazz had investigated that one other human who ate at the troll table, she would have found out he was the star of the SHS track team. This wasn't because he was particularly competitive. He simply loved feeling the wind in his messy black hair, running until his heart pounded and his Mercury shirt stuck to his body.  
On this day, a voice interrupted. "Man, do you ever run out of energy?"  
The boy on the field gave a devilish grin. "I don't know, Paul, do you want me to?"  
"I'm just saying you might want to save it for when practice actually starts, dude."  
"Oh come on, you know I can't wait that long!"  
Paul chuckled. "Yeah, that's the Gabe Egbert way. See ya later."  
"Later!"  
After he'd had enough of practicing on his own, Gabe walked home. "Mama, I'm home!" he called as he pulled the door shut behind him.  
And that's when things got a lot less normal-- by anyone else's standards, that is.  
Gabe closed his eyes as his skin faded from pink to grey and a pair of orange-striped horns grew from his scalp. The eyes had been blue on white when he closed them, but he opened them gray-green over orange.  
Just as he was finishing his transformation, his mother came bounding down the stairs, as though she were the child and he the parent returning from the day's work. She threw her arms around him, and he gladly returned the hug.  
"So how was your fur-st day?"  
Gabe caught the pun and answered with one of his own. "It was paw-sitively awesome! How's work been today?"  
"Great! I think the new class likes me!"  
"Hehe, of course they do. Well, I'll tell you more after Dad gets home, ok?"  
Gabe went to his room and threw his backpack down next to his desk. Since he didn't have any homework his first day, he went straight to his computer and logged onto Pesterchum. (The latest version, 41.3. They'd been racing through updates since before Gabe was even born, when Alternian tech revealed the secret to sending information backwards in time.) He was pleasantly surprised to find that his good friend and, well, crush was online.

\--lowkeyAthlete [LA] began pestering multiversalObserver [MO] at 15:41--

LA: :3 hi molokai!   
MO: Hello, Leon.  
LA: oh yeah, i forgot you like middle names!  
LA: ...lyle, then?  
MO: It does not matter to me. I simply think Leon suits you better.  
MO: I trust your first day of the school year was enjoyable?  
LA: yeah, it was pawsome! :D  
LA: we had a new human at the lunch table and everything!  
MO: ...Was it by any chance a girl with peculiar sunglasses?  
LA: uh, yeah... how'd you know?  
MO: I believe that was your cousin, Leon.  
MO: Mine too, in fact.  
LA: oh man, i'm so dumb! xc  
LA: i forgot auntie jade and uncle dave just moved back here.  
LA: i guess i haven't seen jazz in such a long time, i didn't recognize her!  
MO: If she didn't make herself known to you, I expect she didn't notice the reunion either.  
LA: that's right!  
LA: well, i was probably in troll form the last time she saw me.  
LA: and she didn't have the triangle glasses last time either!  
MO: I expect she had to earn them. They are a family heirloom, after all...  
LA: geez, how do you know so much?  
MO: One sees many things in the Furthest Ring.  
MO: Things that have happened, and if one is lucky things yet to come.  
MO: Time and space are irrelevant to a traveler such as myself.  
LA: bluh, i still don't understand...  
LA: but i guess i should try pestering her?  
MO: Convey my greetings to her then.  
MO: See you later.  
LA: wait, i didn't mean we had to stop talking!  
LA: ...unless you want to, that is...  
MO: To be honest, I was previously occupied.  
LA: oh... :(  
LA: private school give you lots of homework?  
MO: I suppose it is greater than average, but I rather enjoy it. I want to learn as much as possible about this world.  
MO: Of all the planes I have visited, it is often the hardest to understand.  
MO: ...Was there something else you wanted to converse about, Leon?  
LA: ...no, no, it's ok!  
LA: i'll see you soon, alright?  
MO: That does seem likely. Until then, farewell.

\--multiversalObserver [MO] ceased pestering lowkeyAthlete [LA] at 15:44--

On the other side of the conversation, a young grey-skinned man with an aged-looking face closed the chat window and turned to the book that lay open beside him on the desk. He began reading precisely where he had left off, but something was slowing down his usual impressive speed of comprehension...  
Ah, that was it. The sounds coming through the wall.  
He called out his usual request. "Erin, could you please turn your music down? I am trying to read."  
In the next room, the young woman sitting on the bed sighed and looked down at the guitar in her hands. "The guitar's actually here, Molokai," she called back. "I can't just 'turn it down'. Besides, you're always reading."  
For a minute, the wall was silent, then her younger brother's voice was projected again. "Never mind. I can go and study with 'Professor LoVerne'. My consciousness is going to leave my body in a few minutes."  
"OK, whatever." Lousy goddamn magical little brother and his lousy goddamn tentacled friends. Erin continued her guitar practice.  
A couple of hours later, she went downstairs and found her parents having a calm debate (meaning that sarcasm and passive-aggressive suggestions were still at a minimum) over how much wine was really required for a recipe, Mom skeptically regarding the pan on the stove while Mother sat at the kitchen table working on sketches for her winter fashion collection.  
"Erin, you seem a bit down today. Are you hungry?"  
Erin knew Rose wasn't talking about the chicken Marsala. No, that would just be too mundane for this family. "Mom, Kazu gave me some blood just yesterday. I'm fine."  
"No need to get defensive. I'm satisfied that your lack of energy isn't from vampiric anorexia."  
"Anorexanemia?" Mother broke in.  
"Thank you, Kanaya." Rose continued, "But that leaves me wondering what the source of your depressed mood is. You're getting a little old for adolescent angst, dear."  
"I've still got my emergent adult angst," Erin countered, beginning a tally with her fingers, "and half-alien angst, and plain old vampire angst. And that's assuming I need a reason to have a quiet day."  
Rose nearly asked if a mother needed a reason to be concerned for her daughter, but a warning look from her domestic partner made her reconsider. She'd grown up in the habit of escalating perceived conflicts, but transference rarely made for good parenting.  
She was saved from having to plan her next move by a sudden loud sizzling from the stove. Kanaya jumped up to turn it off and the tension was broken.  
"Oh dear, maybe that was too much... Erin, would you mind fetching Molokai for dinner?"  
Erin sighed. "Alright, Mother." She returned upstairs and opened the door next to her own. Her brother had all the lively reaction of a statue, oddly color-inverted eyes continuing to stare at nothing at all.  
Erin simply walked over to where he sat and shook him by the shoulder until he came out of his trance. "Molokai? Oglemo dctuhg lykj ktamn–"  
"Oh, it is?" he responded as Erin clapped a hand over her mouth.  
"Yg'th nug b'ribgythlg... Crap, I did it again, didn't I?"  
"I'm afraid so. What have I told you about mixing dialects of Eldritch like that?"  
"Hey, if it were up to me I wouldn't be speaking it at all. Now come down and eat."  
It was another normal Wednesday in the Maryam-Lalonde household.


	4. Round 2 (That's What She Said)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now that everything I thought I knew about Homestuck has been soundly Jossed, I finally decided to slap an AU label on this and write with impunity. I'll decide how much Act 3 needs to be revised when I get close to it, but in the meantime I'll do my best to hurry up and finish Act 1 so we can get to more action and less exposition. The current plan is to make it seven chapters in total. (Progress meters: Ch. 5: 50%, Ch. 6: 100%, Ch. 7: maybe 30%, yes writing things out of order is one of the many reasons I never update.)

            Not knowing him, Jazz was the only one even vaguely surprised when Araña's brother demanded a rematch the next day.

            Alright, she was _very_ surprised when Maraan's left forearm shifted with a loud whirring into the shape of a sharp, spinning drill. (She would find out later that he had stayed up all night making the necessary adjustments after prying instructions out of one Pegasus Zahhak-Megido.) But a coolkid would never let that show.

            After that initial shock though, she still found his performance thoroughly underwhelming. The threatening-looking drill arm proved to be slower than she expected, as if he weren't yet used to its weight. She didn't even have to use her flash steps to dodge each wild swing without a scratch. Someone who didn't train as often as she did might have been caught off guard when he threw in a much more agile punch with his organic fist, but her insistence on sparring with her father so often had prepared her to react quickly. She allowed him to chase her across the courtyard this way, until...

            "How long are you gonna just abscond from me?"

            "How long are you going to just rely on that bucket of bolts?"

            Her next jump backwards opened the distance between them as Maraan stopped dead in his tracks. His face twitched between expressions, giving the impression of a deer that was extremely pissed off at the car about to hit it. Jazz heard a startled squeak and risked a glance to the side to see Araña with her hands pressed over her mouth.

            Jazz was puzzled, but took the opportunity to counterattack. In a flash, she stood behind him. "You're not even left-handed, are you?" To emphasize her point, she hit his healing shoulder with the hilt of her sword. Maraan stumbled, clutching at the joint with his other hand, and a turnways push to the right shoulder sent him falling hard on his back, though not without one last swipe at her face...

            He landed and was treated to the sight of a pair of green eyes widened in surprise. Maraan smirked. Sure, his opponent had him pinned to the pavement, a foot lightly resting on his chest and her blade planted inches from his neck. But in his hand he clenched the smooth plastic of her glasses.

            As she cautiously leaned down to snatch the shades back, Jazz remarked, "Guess you do have some potential after all." She pushed them back onto her face, turned her back to the fallen troll, and strode over to her friend. Araña still looked nervous, but Jazz put an arm around her and said quietly, "Can I ask what happened to your bro's arm? I didn't think he'd be that sensitive about it."

            "Um, it's not that, Sis, it's that you called it... you know..."

            "What, bucket of bolts?"

            "Don't say it again! That's disgusting!" Araña pulled away, her face flushing the same brown as her symbol.

            "...Alright, I'm really lost. Call me culturally insensitive or whatever, but I have no idea what's disgusting here."

            "You... you don't know?"

            "Know what?"

            Araña cast a nervous glance to where her brother was occupied picking himself off the ground and checking that his metal arm was still properly attached, then leaned over and whispered in the other girl's ear.

            "Oh... _Ohhh!_ " Jazz cracked up in spite of herself as she called out "Sorry man, your fighting's still crap, but I didn't mean..." (She tried and failed to stifle an embarrassingly unironic giggle.) "...that other thing."

 

 

            As Jazz walked home, she couldn't help but notice the footsteps behind her. Just before arriving at her own yard, she turned around.

            "What do you want now, Fullmetal?"

            Maraan didn't show any surprise at her sudden outburst.

            "Make me your student." A simple statement, delivered flatly. Then an afterthought: "Please."

            Skepticism was one emotion the sunglasses allowed Jazz to convey well. "You know this isn't the animes, right?"

            "Fang you!" Maraan bristled. "I just want to get stronger so I can beat you, that's all!"

            Now they were on familiar territory. "So you're assuming I want to train my own rival?" she said with a smirk.

            "Fine, forget the rival thing!" He paused, "Even if I can't beat you, I, uh..." He looked away from her and muttered quickly, "...want to learn anyweb."

            There was an awkward silence. Jazz chose the most obvious and probably the most stupid way to break it.

            "Any... _web?_ "

            Maraan's defensive mode abruptly resurfaced. "It's just a thing I say, alright? I can commune with spiders– no, seriously! So I just kinda... refer to them when I can. Like a slogan or something. 'Any web, any time.' "

            The awkward silence casually returned, but only for a few moments before Jazz broke it again.

            "OK, you know what?" she said, pointing at him, "First act as your sensei, I forbid you from using such a lame catchphrase."

            "What do you mean, lame?!" The quick rush of anger faded as Maraan finally processed the first part of her sentence. "Wait... are you saying you'll actually do it?"

            Jazz shrugged. "Why not? Dad doesn't train me much anymore, and I need the practice. It's kinda flattering, honestly, I didn't think I'd get the chance to teach anybody for like ten more years."

            "Then... I'll see you! For training!" He pointed back at her, hoping it would have the same effect. However, his new teacher was distracted by the sudden appearance of a small three-legged dog in the corner of her yard, whining as only an invisible-fence trainee can. To add insult to injury, as soon as she entered the yard the mutt turned to growl at him. Maraan found himself retreating quickly.

            Still casting frequent looks backwards, he nearly stumbled into his sister, who'd been waiting a few houses down. "So, um... how'd it go?" she asked timidly.

            "Fine! It went fine." She did _not_ need to know that he, a communer for god's sake, had just been scared off by a puppy. "She said I could train with her and stuff," he added proudly.

            "Oh! Good for you!" They walked on, but Maraan's pace lagged slightly as a realization crept up on him.

            Araña had long since gotten used to picking up on such little signs from her brother, to the point where he honestly thought she was reading his mind sometimes. In reality, she was repulsed by the idea of intruding on anyone's private thoughts that way, but she never saw fit to tell him that he usually didn't take a psychic to read. "M-Maraan," she asked timidly, "what's wrong?"

            "Araña... did Jazz ever tell you her Pesterchum account?"

            "Yeah... Why?"

            "...I forgot to ask when we're meeting."


	5. And a Nest Full of Empty

 

            It may have been the age of pesterlogs, but landline phones were still a thing that existed. In fact, they were a thing that rang frequently in the home of Karkat and Terezi.

            After a brief lick to the caller ID, Terezi answered this particular ring with a sarcastically sweet "Ruuuuuss! How nice of you to call!"

            "Dangit, Ma," said a gruff voice on the other end of the line, "d'you _have_ to assume all yer calls are from me?"

            Terezi laughed. "No one else calls us from public phones, silly." Then in an instant her grin disappeared and her voice switched to every concerned parent's Serious Business tone. "So where are you now?"

            Across a continent a figure in a long duster coat and a painfully cliché Western hat looked away from the little pueblo he'd found in the middle of nowhere at a desert landscape punctuated only by the occasional cactus. He was sweltering in the coat, of course, but a man had to look cool. Besides, he already had a tendency to stand out, and at least this way whatever outlaw scumbag he was tailing at the time mistook him for some deluded Yank until he was ready to show them the ropes. Literally. (Only as lassokind, though, no point in racking up homicide charges himself.)

            Russ snapped out of his long and oddly expository train of thought. "Last I checked, I was somewhere in Mexico."

            "How's the chase going?"

            "Found, caught, and turned in, no problems there."

            "So what's taking you so long?"

            _Not even a word of congratulations first?_ Russ thought. _She should've gone into prosecution after all._ He sighed into the telephone. "Just ran into a bit of trouble crossing the border, alright?"

            "Trouble? What _kind_ of trouble?" He could almost see her eyes narrowing behind the sunglasses. He'd heard that _Hold it there, young man_ tone of voice hundreds of times growing up.

            "Illegal alien."

            His mother was silent, which he took to mean she was doing that mouth-twisting thing she did when she was confused. (It always reminded him of a sideways question mark.) Either that or she was playing phone keep-away with Dad again, but he would've been able to hear that.

            "It was a joke, Ma."

            "I knew tha– Well look who's out of his author cocoon!" This last wasn't directed at him, of course, but Russ took it as a sign that he was in for quite the profanity-laden lecture if he stayed on the phone.

            "Coyote's here gotta go tell pops not to get his panties in a bunch see ya," he rattled off in the kind of rush that would've reeked of dishonesty had Terezi actually been paying attention. As it was, she was distracted by the disheveled figure of her matesprit in the doorway.

            "I thought I heard the phone ring just now."

            "Funny, it did! It's your son."

            " 'My' son? I guess I was just a closet teal all this time, who knew? And where do you think he got that fucking annoying laugh?"

            Said "annoying" laughter was the only response Karkat got to his sarcasm, but when she was finished Terezi did hand over the phone.

            "Hello? Hello?!" Silence, interrupted by the slamming of the phone back into its charger. "The little fuckass hung up on me. Not a fucking peep for a month and he has the bioelectric signal filament to hang up on me?!"

            Before Karkat could finish venting, though, the phone rang out again. This time he snatched it up and turned away before Terezi could react.

            "Gee, thanks for realizing your dad's important too, I mean how long does it take to check in once in a while? I was starting to think you might be dead or some shit–"

            "Daddy, why would I be _dead?_ " a woman's voice cut him off with a sigh. "You _know_ they offered me stunt doubles, and _you_ said there were enough humans faking trollhood in this movie already without any of them pretending to be _me_."

            "Oh. Oh, it's you. Uh, sorry about that, Seline." (He ignored the snickering and under-breath "I love it when they do that" from Terezi.) "Look, if you hear from your brother, can you tell him he'd better get his ass back home for your wriggling day? His wriggling day. Fuck, same thing."

            "Actually, I was going to talk about that..."

            Seline was interrupted by a quiet slapping sound, much like that made by the impact of a hand onto its owner's face, and then an exasperated "Don't tell me you're not coming either!"

            "It'll just look bad if I ask for time off already– you know they expanded Redglare's role from the book, right?"

            "What do you mean 'already'? Shit took four goddamn weeks!"

            "And they're saying it'll take at least three _months_..." The sudden silence let them both hear an extra breath on the line. "Mom," Seline added without missing a beat, " _please_ tell him Russ and I can still turn 20 on our own."

            "She is right, you know," chimed in Terezi, as Karkat whirled around to discover that yes, his matesprit had snuck off to some other phone while he was distracted. "We know you're grown up now, sweetie," she continued, then prepared for the chase as she added with a laugh, "He's just forgetting that not _all_ of us can afford to take months between finishing chapters."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS TIME IT'S THE EDITORS' FAULT, I SWEAR.


	6. Mightier Than the... Gun?

            Facing off with a clone should have been like looking into a mirror, but to Eridan's shame, it wasn't. The boy stood before him, gill covers flaring above his neatly buttoned collar, black hair combed down to hide the purple streak forming in the front, only the tiny wave insignia on his pocket protector modus showing his grand line of descent.

            "Herschel," he asked, "is this _really_ necessary?"

            "Dad, I'm six shweeps old! The same age you were when you were havin all those adventures you talk about! I'm ready to fight you and prove myshelf!" The words came out boldly if a little distorted through Herschel's large, flat front teeth. (Where in Glb'golyb's name had those come from, anyway?)

            "Son," Eridan tried to reason, "my weapon's a glubbin laser rifle. You can't just grief with that for fun."

            "I told you, this ishn't just for fun! Doeshn't it have a stun settin or shomething?"

            As soon as Eridan took out Ahab's Crosshairs to demonstrate that there was no such setting, Herschel ran straight towards him. Eridan reflexively moved the gun to a shooting position, but soon realized that the trigger was jammed. The simplest of glances showed the reason: a purple magic marker was wedged behind it.

            As he was about to pull the ironically named writing utensil out of his family heirloom, he was tackled from behind. The momentum of the adolescent troll nearly knocked Eridan over, but Herschel clung tightly to his father's back as if he were still a wiggler demanding a seahorsey ride.

            Eridan felt a sharp point pricking the underside of his jaw. Just what had the junior Ampora allocated to his combat specibus?

            "Shee? I told you I would shurpassh you one day!" Herschel let go and allowed Eridan to turn and see the weapon in his hand. It was... a sharpened pencil.

            Eridan sighed. "Yeah, I suppose you hawe." He walked past his son without another word. Just as Herschel was about to follow him and argue for more recognition, Eridan returned carrying a bundle of purple cloth. He unfolded one of his old capes and wrapped it around his son's shoulders. It fit surprisingly well.

            "Figured you needed some sorta trophy for beatin your old man for the first time. ...Happy wrigglin day, sea squirt."

            Herschel grinned. "Thanksh, Dad. I've got a shurprise for you too!" He ran to his room, new cape swishing behind him. A few minutes later he came back empty-handed, but sticking out his chest like the world's proudest robin. A new symbol, something like a capital H with a thermometer stuck through it, covered his shirt pocket.

            Needless to say, this development went over like a lead balloon. Specifically, one of those underwater, spiky "balloons" that explode when touched.

            "W-WHAT for the lowe a cod is THAT supposed to be?" Eridan spluttered, his wavering accent prominent in the moment of shock.

            "It's my shymbol, Dad. I found it," Herschel said a bit more quietly, knowing what was coming next.

            "You already _hawe_ a symbol, son. It's been passed down fer _generations_." (Well, technically just two generations, but the point still held, coddamnit.)

            Herschel sighed. "That'sh the thing. I'm not jusht one in a line. If I'm gonna be troll king shomeday, I'm doin' it on my own merits."

            There was a brief stare-off that this time may have been against a mirror for all the yielding it inspired.

            In a spectacularly rare event the likes of which even a First Guardian could not have predicted, Eridan Ampora acknowledged defeat for the second time that day.

            "Fine. But if you say you're gonna be the top dogfish, you'd betta follow through. I won't have you losin to Her Condescension's brat, you hear me?"

            "Which one?" Met with just a puzzled expression from his father, Herschel sighed again and added, in the second-generation extraterrestrial's well-practiced tone of why-do-I-still-have-to-explain-this, "Aunt Fef has _two_ daughtersh, Dad, and you know that."

            "Oh, come on, you don't seariously think that mustard-blood is a threat, do you?" Eridan asked, almost reflexively, before noticing that his son had already stormed out of the room.

 


	7. It Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everybody remember this flash? http://www.mspaintadventures.com/?s=6&p=004901 Well Jade is me, the bullet is made of plot ideas, and canon is the imp.  
> But actually posting the chapters I have would be helpful, I guess? So... yeah, I'm not dead. That's really all this note is here to say.  
> ETA: WAIT NO I FORGOT I made this: http://www.tumblr.com/blog/ficcingthehardway Tumblrers, ask me stuff?

 

            It was just like Aletha Peixes to willingly spend her weekend cleaning the basement. When she resurfaced one fateful day with an old-fashioned husktop bearing their father's symbol, Tricia simply chalked it up to her sister's fascination with outdated junk. _Not that that's all bad_ , she thought as she glanced back down at her salvaged cassette player, a fifteenth birthday present and the best solution she'd found yet for voices that were _actually there_. Still, having nothing better to do, she felt compelled to ask. "What are you going to do with a computer that'th probably older than uth?"

            "Are you kidding?" Aletha asked, her hands hovering reverently over the keyboard as if she were a faith healer. "Vintage computers are SO COOL! Look, it still works!"

            Tricia looked. With a little coaxing from the sea dweller's electrokinesis (the only form of psionic ability she'd ever achieved), the aged screen had managed to light up again after so many years gathering dust. Aletha relaxed her focus on the inner circuitry and began clicking excitedly.

            "Are you thure Dad'th ok with you going through hith thtuff?" Tricia asked, and then paused thoughtfully. "Never mind, thupid quethtion. He'th ok with everything."

            Minutes later, but not many, Aletha made a discovery.

            "Wow, look at all this code! It's totally different from all the ~ATH on here... If I had to guess, I'd say it's for some sort of game!"

            That got Tricia's attention. "Wait... How old would you thay that computer ith?"

            Aletha looked over the machine again. "Must be at least twenty years... It's weird that I don't recognize the model though..." The truth dawned on her. "You don't think this could be from Alternia?"

            "If it did, then that pretty little code might've dethtroyed a glubbing planet. Don't meth with it."

            "Don't be silly, I wasn't about to run a code without knowing what it does! Although..."

            The computer snapped shut before Aletha's eager fingers could return to its faded keys. "There'th no 'although' for the only planet you have, heireth. Thith game needth to thtay over."

            "I know, but Tri–"

            "Over."

            "Ok, but I was just going to say... If I analyze it bit by bit, I'm pretty sure I can isolate the dangerous parts and delete them. No meteors, no problem, right? It would be just a game."

            _If anyone can do it, it's her, but..._ "I'm thtill not thure about thith."

            "Well, that's why I've got a little sister to kelp me!"

            Tricia snapped out of her argumentative mode. "Wait, you really want my kelp? I mean help? But I thuck at programming next to you. _Royally_ thuck, you could thay." She rolled her blue and gold eyes at her own terrible pun.

            "Oh, don't be so negative, Trishy-fishy. It'll go faster if we're both working on it!" Seeing her sister grimace a bit at the old nickname, Aletha added playfully, "And you can make shore I don't accidentally kill everyone with it."

            Though she tried, the bipolar troll couldn't hide her anticipation for long. To be fair, she didn't _know_ she still lacked this particular family gift; she hadn't tried since that accidental download about a year back... "Ok, deal." She remembered again her embarrassment watching her father clean up after her digital mess. _“It’s not so bad, you're lucky that all you let in was a Crocker spambot..."_ She quickly added "But nothing runth until we've triple-checked."

            The new lead programmer agreed, and so they began the process of rewriting the very game that had created the world as they knew it.

            That night, on the other side of town, Araña Nitram dreamed of a golden tower on a planet orbiting a mass of clouds. Like her dreams about the man in black asking everyone she knew strange questions or the woman who looked human aside from a pair of rabbit ears, she dismissed it the next morning as probably meaningless.

###    
END OF ACT 1  



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